


The Slumber Party

by HBossWrites



Series: Surviving Project Freelancer [7]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-typical language, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Forced Slumber Party, Gen, Life on Chorus, Lots of OCs - Freeform, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Post-Season 13 AU, The Chorus Kids Will Make That Happen, The Freelancers Need Friends, The Soldiers are Hella Young
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14550447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HBossWrites/pseuds/HBossWrites
Summary: The Freelancers have survived the Project and come out of hiding only to crash land on Chorus in their attempts to find and rescue Agent Washington, who they assumed was in mortal danger. They have been locked in quarantine until they are proved to be free of all potentially lethal contaminants to people of the planet.The Chorus soldiers they are trapped in quarantine with have decided to adopt them.





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> This is an off shoot of the story Finding Washington. If you have not read that story, here's what you need to know! 
> 
> The Freelancers are not dead!
> 
> The Freelancers went to Chorus to save Wash after seeing Epsilon's broadcast!
> 
> The Freelancers crashed on Chorus and got banged up.
> 
> South was injured in the crash!
> 
> Maine has made a friend with a small, foul mouthed girl who knows sign language!
> 
> No one trusts the Freelancers!

The Chorus soldiers meandered, one by one, into the quarantine area with varying levels of hunger and exhaustion. The sterile, bright lights in the hall reflected against the oversized glass windows and made it difficult to look into the space from the outside, though that didn’t stop the guards from trying when Volleyball started wiggling her hips as she walked.

They were all dressed in Chorus’s most ugly, uncomfortable, bland scrubs, and John at least was eager to redress in something a little less itchy. It was funny how, on a planet this size, with fully stocked cities just waiting to be raided, they managed to not find a single repository for comfortable medical wear.

Something to bring up at the next supply run meeting.

As John dug through the racks of clothing someone had been thoughtful enough to have brought in, Private Cissy Yacavone, youngest of the present group, plastered herself against his side and curled her fingers into his scrubs. He looked down at her, hair damp and uncurled, eyes wide, red, and scared, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. If she needed a big brother at the moment, he could provide that. Fed or New Repub didn’t matter with kids, all she knew was he was the oldest and he was safe.

He plucked at an adult sized set of pajamas in bright yellow, covered in pictures of different styles of hard candies and smiled to himself. He’d bet his left arm that Captain Caboose was involved with the fashion choices that had made it into the open room. The man would never stick them with anything less than comfortable and cheerful, both of which were present in abundance.

“Yoink!”

Volleyball ducked under John’s arm and plucked the pajamas from his hand.

“Found your jammies, Habisch!”

“FUCK YOU!”

John shook his head and laughed. He shuffled sideways a few steps and plucked at a velvety pink dress with a ruffled skirt and a high neck. It was soft, patterned velvet, and felt like heaven under his fingers, perfect for a fidgeter who enjoyed textures, and plenty relaxed enough that she wouldn’t feel constricted.

“This one?”

Cissy looked at the dress with a suspicious eye but rubbed her fingers lightly against the fabric, face twisted in an adorable expression of contemplation. She nodded. John took down the dress for her and handed it to Volleyball with a smile.

“She likes pink.”

“She has good taste. Cissy, how do you feel about bunnies?”

Volleyball pointed at a pair of pastel pink bunny slippers sitting innocently in a box on the floor with other various types of footwear. They would be big on Cissy, sure, but they were very soft and would hopefully help her deescalate out of her hyped up emotional state. The poor kid had been a wreck since Marconi, her partner in crime, best friend, and brain twin, was caught in an explosion and carted off for medical care.

“Rabbits have eyes that can see into your soul, and it hurts when they bite you. Also, they scream a lot.”

John traded a confused look with Volleyball over Cissy’s head. The younger girl looked up at the two of them and quirked her lips a little. The brat was teasing them!

A good sign. She wasn’t as far down in the terror headspace as John originally thought.

“They’re cute.”

Cissy gripped John’s scrubs tight as she leaned down to pick up the slippers, like she was afraid he’d bolt on her the moment she let him go.

He wouldn’t abandon a teammate in their time of need, of course, but she didn’t know him well enough yet to make that call. She’d only been in Proteger for a few weeks before the Freelancers decided to crash-land on Chorus, and she hadn’t interacted with the Lieutenants in any meaningful way before.

She clutched the slippers to her chest and stared down at them hard, obviously concerned about them even as she tried to look casual. John wondered if it was the color or the animal that unsettled her more. He’d seen the rabbits Matthews used to bring back from hunting trips before he was base restricted, and they weren’t nearly as adorable as the plush variety Earth liked to peddle.

Volleyball put her hand over Cissy’s and gently pulled her fingers free from John’s shirt.

“Come on, Sweetie, let’s go change.”

“There are boys here.”

“Yeah, but the bathroom has a lock on the door. Let’s go. I’ve got your dress and some leggings, you’ve got your underwear and shoes, and John needs to put his own pj’s on.”

The girl, and she was still a girl even if she’d been given a gun, gave John an unimpressed once over and nodded.

“Those clothes are ugly. You need your blues.”

Volleyball snorted and whisked them away with a whistle on her lips. Cissy craned her neck over her shoulder and waved with a teasing grin.

He smiled and waved back.

Folami hobbled over on her hospital issued crutches and snatched a pair of dark grey sleep pants and a tank top from the rack.

“You’re such a dork, Andersmith.”

“Or maybe I just don’t like seeing people sad.”

Her face was worn, exhausted. She had thin lines of stress around her mouth, and her hair hung in limp, wet tangles around her face. John grabbed her a pair of house slippers from the box that had rubber soles to help keep her from slipping and put them on the floor in front of her.

She slipped her feet in, tapped the toes against the ground, and grunted.

“Thanks.”

“Of course. Do you need help changing?”

“Fuck no, I can move, it just makes me make noises that we previously believed were only made by really pissed off frogs. Fucking Mercs and their gross fucking bullets. Who can even make bullets with paralytics and nerve agitators on them anyway? Like, fuck me man!”

It was unusual to see the lines of stress so clearly on her face, when he’d never known her to not wear her stellar façade of crass competence, flippancy, and aggressive kindness. It was one of the many things John admired about her. Her emotional fortitude was hard to match, especially in the face of adversity.

But this was something new. Something John didn’t know what to do with.

Something had her scared.

“Talk to me?”

She scrubbed at her face and tried not to teeter over on her crutches. Her voice was a low whisper.

“Are they going to be ok, do you think? The Freelancers?”

“Aside from Agent South Dakota, I have no doubts that they will all recover quickly and with few complications, but I’m not on the medical team. You would be a better judge of their injuries.”

She looked around the space, leaned forward a little, and whispered.

“I don’t mean for them, I mean for us.”

John moved up to her shoulder and leaned in close. Something was wrong enough to have her thoroughly spooked. Folami’s shoulders hunched a little before she forcibly straightened herself up.

“Talk to me, Taita. What has you bothered?”

“I pushed really hard to get them here. I played nice, made friends, made them like me, to keep us safe and keep them calm. I followed orders, we got them home, and now I don’t know what to do. Fuck. John, I’m freaked.”

“I thought you liked them?”

“God damn it,” she hissed, furiously, “That’s not the _point_! Just because I like someone doesn’t mean that I’m blind to their flaws. In fact, me linking a person is generally a really bad sign. You know it. I know it. Those people, they’re fucking cool and under different circumstances I’d be all over those loons like white on rice, but they’re _dangerous_. **_I_** brought them here. If something goes wrong, it’s on **_me_**.”

John reached out to put his hand on Folami’s shoulder, only to see her flinch away.

She wasn’t the flinching type. Taita Folami would rather take the hit and come back at you than let you think her diminutive size a weakness. Folami didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, and didn’t let you see her squirm.

“No, it’s not. Kimball issued orders to bring them home where they’re safe. That was her decision, not yours, and there’s nothing you could have done differently. Take heart, she’s rarely wrong about these things.”

Something was _very_ wrong.

Folami rubbed at her eyes angrily, and her mouth twisted in such a way that John knew he was about to hear the vilest venom she could muster. The kind of cruelty that got perfectly serviceable soldiers dismissed to blood bases where their lives were exponentially more likely to be shortened through death or dismemberment.

“She was wrong about Felix.”

He gritted his teeth and let out a slow breath.

Part of him wanted to be angry about that, because they were _all_ wrong about Felix. No one managed to break through that façade to see the vicious psychopath hiding beneath it. Expecting Vanessa Kimball to see through the man’s very good mask was unfair and unkind to the woman, two things he knew his friend was not.

“Felix lived through four other generals before he started to work with her. She didn’t have a chance to develop an unbiased opinion.”

“She didn’t get the chance with the Freelancers either. Can you say **this** decision is really unbiased when one of them used to fuck her girlfriend? I love the Kim, you know I’m all for big sis, but you also know she bends over backwards to make Carolina happy. How many schedule changes, just for the Reds and Blues, since Agent Carolina showed up? How many adjustments? Fuck, dude, she’s even moved our quarters around to accommodate the woman’s paranoia and ‘need for space’.”

“Things have been changing, I won’t deny it, but I don’t think she’s making the changes to make Carolina happy so much as using Carolina’s skills to make things happen differently. She did the same when the Captains were brought in.”

Folami shook her head, and John saw water droplets hit her shoulders. She hadn’t finished drying her hair.

“I don’t trust it. I have a terrible feeling, like we’ve just made the worst mistake ever. I think Kimball feels it. She knows it, and she’s deliberately ignoring it.”

“Taita, don’t do that. Don’t turn on her, don’t spin yourself up in ‘what ifs?’ and stories. She _needs_ us.”

John had never seen Folami this way, this raw, this open. She looked shaken to her core, like her whole center of gravity had been knocked on its side.

What happened during that brief period when she was being patched up by medical that knocked her from her firm footing? Of all of them, Taita Folami was not one to be shaken. She was fierce, had a keen eye, bold, and fearless. If anyone should understand utilizing the people around them for the best results, it was Folami. These were the things she was _good_ at.

“What’s happened?”

“I’m scared, John. I’m fucking scared, and I’m trying so goddamned hard not to show it.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

The odds were usually in the favor of her being embarrassed or angered by unsolicited physical affection. The woman was incredibly tactile, but only on her terms. A hug without explicit consent could get you a thumb to the eye if you weren’t careful, and she wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it.

Still, John took the risk and it paid off. She melted against his side and pressed her face into him.

“We are all afraid Taita, and your concerns and fears are valid. I know things are in the air right now, and I understand being frightened. We are all right there with you.”

She snorted and shook her head but didn’t pull away from the hug.

“I don’t mean to be dismissive, but you can’t be like this for much longer.”

“I know,” she grumbled unhappily into his side.

“We’re depending on you to keep the more…skittish people calm.”

“Yeah,” she sneered at herself and pulled back, “because for some fucking reason, the Freelancers trust my ugly mug. How do I always get myself into these kinds of situations? I hate people.”

“You love people, but I was actually referring primarily to Cissy and Charles at the moment more than the Freelancers.”

Folami leaned over to look out the gaps in clothing. He knew she’d spotted Palomo, sitting by himself in a corner and picking at his t-shirt, when her nose wrinkled in concern.

“You think Palomo still needs it?”

John glanced over and saw that Palomo had shifted from picking at his shirt with both hands, to biting his cuticles. He’d make himself bleed before long if he wasn’t more careful.

“He’s been…less than stable since everything ended. After the fight, when he found out Matthews had been hurt, that certainly didn’t help. Of course, Kyle is fine, it was more frightening than anything else, but it scared him more than anything we’ve seen at this point. He’s got a good front, but after the fight and being threatened and people getting hurt-“

“And his breakdown.”

John nodded.

“I will admit, I’m more than a little concerned about him.”

She groaned, loudly and dramatically. A quick, one-two shake of her head and shoulders, a puff of air from her nose, and her face completely reformed itself into her smiling, smug, ‘take no shit’ persona.

She was back.

“Got it. Babysitting. I fucking hate that.”

John let her go and tapped her shoulder with his fist.

“You love it, it gives you a chance to stretch your acting chops.”

“Meh.”

Bitters strode up to them, a box big enough for a pair of boots with a bright green ribbon tied around it in hand, with an incredibly constipated expression. John could see ‘Antoine’ written on the top, in the meticulously neat handwriting that could only belong to Bitters’ boyfriend.

It never ended.

Folami listed to the side just enough to bump Bitters with her crutch.

“What’s wrong, little boy orange?”

“Nothing, aside from the sheer embarrassment that I know is waiting for me in this box. I’m pretty sure Kyle’s playing a prank on me.”

Folami raised an eyebrow.

Bitters looked at her, looked at John, and sighed with a droop of his shoulders.

“I just hate this part. Please tell me we’re not debriefing with Shields after.”

Semyon Demir peeked his head over the clothes rack, and armful of what looked to be bathrobes in his grip. Why he needed so many robes was anyone’s guess, but the room was warm enough that John didn’t think anyone would be upset for the lack of them.

“I don’t get why you all hate Doctor Shields so much. He’s a good doctor.”

Bitters crossed his arms as best as he could with the large box in hand. It looked silly, but John knew he’d get an earful if he dared to say anything. The man had his pride.

“I have my reasons.”

John shook his head.

“The only Federal doctors we trust are vetted by Doctor Grey, and she’s leery about him.”

“Oh,” Demir pushed his way through the clothes rack and met them on the other side, “that’s fair. I’ve only just met her the one time. She’s something else, huh?”

Folami shifted herself around to look directly at him.

“That’s right, you and Shields are both from a blood base, aren’t you?”

Bitters snorted.

“Explains his bedside manner.”

“We’re both from Lágrima, and he’s not that bad, you just have to remember to never show weakness around him. Since he’s got no interest in anyone but himself and the higher ups, you probably won’t have to be around him. He’s easy to avoid.”

“He was easy to avoid. Doyle promoted the guy before he died, and now he’s fucking everywhere.”

Demir craned his neck to look around the three and pointed at a bag on the ground with his nose. John smiled and put the bag on top of the pile of robes in his arms.

“Really? Shields said he was _de_ moted not _pro_ moted. Shouldn’t he be harder to get to?”

Folami snorted and patted at Demir’s arm.

“Not really, he’s actually working with patients full time now. Probably a demotion in his mind.”

The three started to chatter easily, so John grabbed himself a change of clothes, dressed, and made his way over to the couches the soldiers had started to congregate at. Someone had thought ahead and made sure to fill the space with enough soft places to sit for everyone in the caravan without resorting to sending people to bed for space. He started to unfurl blankets and distribute pillows from the piles they’d been left with onto the beds that were around the walls of the room. At least they’d been kind enough to put up some space dividers, though John knew that would not be enough for the more paranoid of their numbers.

They were going to need a lot more pillows and blankets to make the kinds of forts necessary for privacy.

Chari was on the floor next to the pile, her face was twisted with frustration.

“They’ve only given us one each. One pillow. One blanket. I get cold easy, John, and I’m not sharing my sleeping space even if it would make me warmer.”

He grabbed a pillow and blanket and handed it to her.

“We’ll have someone bring us more. We’re home, no one has to suffer a lack of blankets.”

Demir and Quetzalli flopped down onto one of the many couches they’d been blessedly gifted with. Captain Caboose had made sure that the space was comfortable and homey as he knew how, and John was _certain_ the captain had dressed the room, now that he’d gotten a proper look at the contents. There were stuffed animals strewn about, brightly patterned clothing and blankets, and a large stack of board games along the far wall.

John was willing to bet the man had even hidden treats in the couch cushions.

Demir leaned forward with a bright grin, though still a little too watery for John’s taste.

“Pillow fort?”

He nodded and handed Demir his pillow and blanket.

“After a supply drop. Right now, we don’t have enough to build a pillow fence, let alone a functional fort.”

Quetzalli quirked an eyebrow and melted against the cushions.

“Is there a reason we’re all acting like we’re kids? I mean, not that I’m complaining, because nothing beats a pillow fort, except maybe a blanket fort with hot chocolate and rain noises.”

“The Freelancers respond fairly well to it. They seem to feel like they are protecting us, and that makes them feel in control in a really terrible situation. If they have control, they’re less likely to have another massive freak-out. At least, that’s the idea.”

Folami shuffled over on her crutches, in her new clothes, but they were rumpled and clearly not in the right places. Before she could throw herself down onto a couch, Volleyball and Cissy ran up behind her. Cissy snatched her crutches as Volleyball grabbed Folami bridal style and stuck her in the plushest lounge chair and popped the footrest.

She shook her head, but didn’t so much as make a protesting squeak, even after the two women bumped their hips against one another and wrapped a blanket around her like she was an invalid.

Folami let out a snort of amusement and wiggled into her seat.

“They also like us teaching them shit but keep it basic. For CSL, no codes, no double speak, no important phrases, keep it simple. They’ll figure shit out on their own soon enough, we don’t need to help them. I screwed up and let them know it existed and didn’t tell anyone, and Bitters plan almost got fucked because of it. Still, Mick likes it, and you know they’ll remember it, so hiding it completely is a stupid move. Go for casual if you can, but remember that anything you say and do is going to be remembered by someone.”

Jensen grabbed Palomo’s hands and pulled him toward the couches. He smiled a little, Jensen always managed to do that for him.

“Great, I’m thinking board gamesh too, to keep the mood light.”

“Games are good. We want them distracted from the outside as long as we can manage.”

“Distracted?”

Palomo allowed himself to be pushed onto one of the couches, his whole face was bewildered, kind of soft around the edges, and a little bit lost. Jensen stuck her hand in the cushions and pulled a chocolate wedge wrapped in plastic free with a triumphant grin. She broke off a piece and put it in Palomo’s palm.

Bitters flopped down on the floor, wrapped himself as much as he could to hide the clothes Kyle Matthews had so generously provided for him, and held his head. He had a fun, neon orange bandage wrapped around it, despite not actually having a knot or a cut, to signify his injury. Still, it would deter anyone from smacking him, which in the end was likely the point of it.

“So, what’s the plan here? How are we handling this?”

Folami stretched out as well as she could in the chair and winced. The bullet wounds had been small, and relatively easily cared for, but Doctor Grey was right about the bullets being coated. She huffed and went boneless.

“We want them to feel included.”

“Really? That’s what you’ve got?”

“Shut up, bitch, I’m percolating my thoughts.”

The circle of couches filled with bodies, the few unharmed made themselves at home as best they could and waited quietly for Folami’s brain to process what she wanted to say. Volleyball perched on the arm of her chair and played with her damp locks.

“Look, most of them? They’re _aching_ to be around people. You could see it in how their faces lit up when we talked to them. The only two in that whole mess I’m worried about are Wyoming and Florida. The rest of them we can deal with. They’re malleable, they’re lonely, and they’re interested in what we’re selling.”

Chari, Habisch, and Quetzalli shared a look, the only three in the space at the moment who hadn’t spent an extended period of time in direct contact with the Freelancers. Orwell was likely off playing with Danvers, and the rest of the people outside the main truck had been banged up enough for an extended stay in hospital beds. Quetzalli reached deep between the cushions of the couch and pulled a deck of hand drawn playing cards out. Each card had a colorful crayon drawing of a person in armor on it with a number and a shape.

“Sweet! Caboose cards! I don’t really understand why you’re worried about Florida. Sure, he’s a little perky, but he seems ok.”

Bitters rapped his knuckles on the floor, and she winced.

“The man tortured a merc to death within ten minutes of us meeting him. Tortured him to death and walked over to us covered in blood, happy as can be.”

Folami shook her head.

“It was more like thirty minutes, Antoine.”

Demir’s shoulders shrank in and he wrapped his arms around an oversized sheep stuffie. Where he’d gotten it from, John had no idea, but he was pleased to see it.

“Yeah, but he got sick right after. He looked terrible.”

What…did he do with the bathrobes?

“That was the concussion, Semyon. I’m telling you, he’s fishy, and Wyoming’s fishy too.”

John looked around the room, but didn’t see a pile of robes anywhere.

“He was nice to Eddie.”

Huh.

“He was looking for an in.”

Weird.

“They were all kind of-“

Folami pulled herself up and pointed.

“No, dude. Most of them were too busy looking for help to get their panties in a twist about getting an in. North was looking for someone to take care of his sister, South was looking not to die, Maine was looking for someone who treated him normal. York and Niner are both looking for things they’ve lost. Florida and Wyoming were the only ones who weren’t living in the moment. We’ve got most of them. We could have all of them if we can figure out Florida. Wyoming’s gonna follow his lead. Make. Florida. Like. You. It will save your life.”

Her voice was solid stone, no room for arguments. There was something she saw that none of the others had. Something that needed to be addressed eventually.

It was common with Folami. She had an uncanny ability to see a situation from the top down rather than from head on. Usually it served her well.

“You are,” Habisch looked like she had been told to eat worms for their protein, “very confident about that.”

“I’m really eager not to die. At the moment, he’s the unofficial ringleader. Get him, we get his husband too. The rest are easy. Agent Maine is already in love with me.”

Chari leaned forward and rested her chin on her palms.

“You really think that he’s the ringleader? I get what you’re saying, I do, but he seems harmless.”

Folami snorted and pointed her finger at every person in the room.

“Dude, one word. Matthews.”

Bitters rolled his eyes and leaned back against Jensen’s knees. She smiled, bright and gentle, and ran her fingers delicately through his hair.

He only winced a little.

“I really have no idea where you all get your fear of my boyfriend, he’s a harmless dork who worships authority figures and cries during animal movies.”

“Yeah? What happened with that guy who assaulted the kids in the cafeteria? Or the bootleggers slipping out the moonshine that was putting people in the hospital? That one asshole who was stealing ammo and trying to sell it back to people? What happened to that fucker who was drilling holes into the shower walls, so he could spy on people?”

Volleyball made a ‘hmm’ing noise and nodded.

At some point, she’d picked up a container of stretchy putty, and started to kneed it slowly.

“Matthews finds out through the grapevine, and suddenly people are missing or beaten up, or dead, and the survivors won’t say shit. Your boy is like the mafia, only with the blessing of the chain of command.”

“You have no proof that Kyle was involved in any of that. Actually, you have **anti** -proof, you don’t even know that he reported anything. Stop spreading rumors like that unless you _want_ people to start targeting him, Folami. If something bad happens to _my_ Kyle because of your loose lips and delusions, I will never forgive you.”

She waved him off, but also nodded, so at the very least, John knew she’d tone it down on her conspiracy theories.

Still, it might not be a bad idea to talk to Matthews about the rumors, if only for him to find better ways to protect himself. They didn’t need the young man being targeted by someone out for revenge.

“He’s a freak of nature, and I’m so glad he’s my friend,” Volleyball bounced in her seat, “because that means I’m like ten percent less likely to wake up without my kidneys.”

“Or ten percent _more_ likely if you fuck up majorly,” Habisch quirked and eyebrow at her, “because you shoulda known better.”

“Fuck that shit! Matthews loves me! He’s not gonna touch my kidneys!”

Folami let out a loud whistle.

“Look, guys,” Folami pleaded, “We need to be on the same page on this. It doesn’t matter where your politics fall, who you supported in what election, or whether or not you hate each other, I’m looking at you Smosna and Habisch. We all need to work together and try to make them welcome. If they like us, they probably won’t kill us, and they might even stick around for a while.”

“They…are kind of shtuck anyway,” Jensen frowned in confusion at Folami, “what with their shhip being crashhed and Agent Shouth being in critical care.”

“Yeah, but they could still run away from the bases and cause all kinds of havoc out there. Or they could be idiots and get eaten by a horse or a gnashwolf or a roaming pack of weasels. Look, the point is, we want them to be comfortable here, so…try to be nice?”

Demir snorted.

“That’s not going to be easy for some of us.”

“Semyon, I will punch you in the dick, I don’t care that you’re like twelve. Don’t test me.”

“I’m seventeen!”

Suddenly, Cissy was on her feet and slammed herself against the window. Folami shifted into as much of an upright position as she could manage.

“Shit. Ok guys, showtime. Follow my lead.”

Volleyball shook her head.

“Bitch, I follow no one’s lead. Guys, this isn’t a big conspiracy, just act natural. Play nice. It’ll all work out.”

“And try to make them not hate you.”

\-----

The Freelancers were all going for casual and shit, they were pretty damned good at it too!

Not.

They all just sort of stood there and leaned into each other’s space, tense smiles and nervous twitching. It was kinda sad, unless it was all on purpose as a ruse! Volleyball didn’t think so, though.

Agent Maine and Agent York both looked wistfully over at the couches while Agent Florida and Agent Wyoming cased the space. Oh, sure, Florida was a lot more subtle about it, all smiles and laughter, but Volleyball knew _exactly_ what the man was doing. She wasn’t stupid or anything.

Agent North just looked worried.

Best not to let that settle in, or they’d have a very long however long until someone hit the release, in there.

She spun back to the collection of soldiers and threw out her arms.

“Who has rank in here? Chari?”

“Psh! Yeah right. Aside from the Lieutenants, we’re all Privates at best. This was a mama bird mission.”

Niner rolled forward a little, but didn’t cross the invisible barrier the outsiders had managed to create. There was almost a tangible line on the floor, based on the way they’d stopped.

It was a little sad that they were all so unsure about how close they were allowed to get.

That was ok, though! She knew how to fix it!

“What the hell’s a mama bird mission?”

Volleyball motioned around behind her to the conglomeration of relatively non-injured soldiers.

“Mama Bird Kimball decided to push her babies out of the nest. Meaning the General sent out a bunch of young soldiers, or soldiers who don’t have to be in the field as much due to their skillsets, with a protection detail. The Reds and the Lieutenants and Agent Carolina would protect them and let them get their feet wet with a mission that doesn’t involve shooting people. That didn’t go exactly to plan though, did it? I’m pretty sure Folami’s highest rank, she’s a medic.”

Taita yanked her pillow out from behind her back and threw it halfheartedly. It ended up falling into Garza’s lap and getting stuck under her butt.

“It’s mine now. Learn some manners, or how to throw better, I’m not picky.”

Taita stuck her tongue out and flailed her arms like a bird trying to take off. She’d gone into full on twelve-year-old mode!

“I’m only rank when I’m on duty, and even if I have rank, I’m not using those fucking crutches again. Someone else do it. And don’t call Kimball that, V, she’s touchy about that shit and you know it.”

Volleyball motioned the Freelancers toward her with open arms and grinned. She was gonna get them _so_ confused!

“Folami just doesn’t wanna get up from her comfy chair. Ok, before you can all get changed and get cozy, we’ve got one more thing to take care of. Folami? Permission to act in your stead?”

“Go for it.”

Volleyball laughed and clapped her hands together twice.

“Awesome! Freelancers, present your foreheads!”

They all gave her different variations of a ‘what the fuck’ expression, even Agent Florida’s grin was less chipper and more confuzzled, which was just so freaking funny!

This was probably the best opportunity they’d have to get these guys to trust them and start to integrate, rather than feeling like outsiders. If the Chorus soldiers could just get the Freelancers (and pilot) to go with the flow, to just accept the world around them as it was while they were still in quarantine, they could save themselves so much trouble later.

The new people would have to deal with hundreds of new strangers soon enough. They needed people they could trust, even if they didn’t understand the reason behind requests.

She just hoped they’d go with it, rather than fighting.

Agent York grinned, carefree as a man could be considering he’d just survived what should have been a lethal spaceship crash, discovered that his girlfriend isn’t actually dead, and is now trapped in a sealed room with a bunch of teenagers.

“Is this a hazing ritual?”

“Absolutely!”

Agent Maine looked over Volleyball’s shoulder at Taita for support, the man seemed to think the foul mouthed little medic hung the moons for whatever reason, not that Volleyball could blame him! She did have that air of ‘I know what I’m doing’ about her.

Taita grinned and made a shooing motion at him.

He stepped up into Volleyball’s space, bowed low enough for her to reach his face, and looked up at her from the position. His eyes were partially blocked by his gorgeously long eyelashes, that she was SO totally not jealous of.

Volleyball grabbed the sides of his face and pressed a kiss to the center of his forehead.

“Welcome home, Agent Maine. Our house is your house. Be at peace here.”

She let him go and patted his shoulder.

He blinked, confused, and stood back. She giggled into her fist and tried so hard not to let out a full-blown belly laugh. The man looked like a puppy that’d had its ears ruffled for the first time!

“That’s it! Someone get this man some clothing that fits! Who’s next?”

Agent Florida put himself front and center with a wide, cheerful smile that made Volleyball’s stomach flip a little from nerves.

There was something about the man that made her ten different flavors of uncomfortable, maybe it was the rumors of torture, but she thought it probably had more to do with the way he looked at her like he could break her in two before she knew what was coming. Oh sure, he _walked_ like a man who wanted to take care of all your problems, but he _smiled_ like a man who’s solution to your problems was a knife in the gut.

She’d gotten better about seeing that in a person, now that she knew what to look for.

So, Volleyball supposed, Felix was good for something.

“So, not a hazing ritual so much as a greeting?”

“It’s tradition! When you get back from a mission, someone who loves you is here to greet you. If your loved ones are unavailable at the moment, someone with a higher rank will do it for you.”

“You make it sound like an obligation, Jess,” Palomo whined and started to play with Bitters hair along with Katie-Kate. The poor, orange soldier looked displeased about the whole thing, but he didn’t try to stop them. “We do it, so everyone knows they’re cared about. It’s a labor of love.”

She snorted and pressed a kiss to Agent Florida’s forehead.

“Welcome home, Agent Florida. Our house is your house. Be at peace here.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Volleyball made her way through the group, one by one, without a single protest from anyone which had to be some kind of magic. In fact, when she got to Niner, the other woman pulled her down and kissed her forehead back! An unexpected, but very welcome turn!

Someone was halfway to converted!

“Alright, enough mushy stuff! Come in! Come in! We need to get you some clothes! Those are honestly terrible, and you should be ashamed of yourselves for wearing them!”

Niner snorted and whapped Volleyball lightly on the arm.

“We didn’t exactly have a choice, brat.”

“You could have chosen to be naked, instead you chose bad fashion. Shame.”

Volleyball spun in a circle again and motioned them over to the clothing racks.

She hoped there was something broad enough for Agent Maine.

“Ok, everyone, time to get clothes on. Thank god for the distraction, because I AM SO BORED!!!”

Bitters sighed, and she winced when he clutched his head.

Poor guy, still sensitive, even though the disorientation had worn off.

“Come on, Volleyball, really?”

“They TOOK my TABLET, Antoine! Why would they do that?!”

“They took all of our stuff, Volleyball. Everything _must_ be decontaminated, right down to the stuffed animals Palomo smuggled onto the mission. Everything gets a good scrub-down and goes back where it belongs, and someone will be here soon enough with a datapad for you to play with. Sweet, zombie Jesus. I love you like a sister, but _fuck_ if you don’t give me a headache sometimes.”

“Meh, meh, meh! I’m Antoine Bitters and I don’t know what fun is for!”

She flew through the racks like a woman on a mission.

Before the Freelancers could so much as blink, they had armfuls of clothes to try on courtesy of her keen eye for colors and sizing! She was pretty pleased with herself for finding enough variety for Agent Maine, though she was pretty sure half of it belonged to Captain Caboose or Captain Grif, if only for the broadness of the shoulders that most of the inhabitants of Chorus didn’t seem to possess.

Agent North and Agent York ended up in pajama pants and patterned t-shirts, no surprise there, but she hadn’t expected Agent Maine to go for shorts and a hoodie. Mostly, the group stuck to soft fabrics and loose clothing in their preferred armor colors.

It downplayed their size and muscles.

The men all made their way over to the couches while Niner just…sat, frozen, staring at the racks. She hadn’t changed. Hadn’t grabbed anything out of the pile in her lap.

“Niner?”

The woman shook her head.

“Sorry, just…what the fuck am I supposed to do with all of this?”

Ah, choice paralysis. _That_ she could help with.

“You feelin’ skirts or pants?”

“Pants.”

“Covered ankles?”

“Yes.”

“Fabric preference?”

“I’m paralyzed. I don’t feel shit.”

“You have hands. You can still touch your pants.”

Niner grumbled and shrugged.

“Soft?”

“Sure.”

“Sweats?”

“God no.”

“Gotcha. Colors?”

“No preference.”

“Pink it is!”

“Ok, no pink.”

“Lightish red?”

“I…don’t know what the fuck that is, but no.”

“Fine, fine. So mean. Here.”

Smosna held up a pair of silver satin sleep pants with very thin dark grey pinstripes. Niner rubbed the material between her fingers.

“It matches your hair!”

“Nice. I can work with this.”

Volleyball poked at the racks.

“You know, I miss doing this. Short, long, or no sleeve?”

“No sleeve. You miss this?”

She pulled a bright blue tank top off the rack, pressed it to her face, and sighed.

“Mmm, I used to pick out my mom’s clothes before she got transferred. She’s mostly blind, so I helped keep her in her preferred aesthetic. Do you like plain stuff, or printed? Because this Wonder Woman top is so soft, seriously, it’s like a baby weasel! Feel!”

“A weasel?”

Volleyball pressed the shirt against Niner’s face.

“Woah! I-…ok, that’s really soft. I’m not big on superheroes, but this’ll do.”

“You don’t like Wonder Woman?”

“Not a big fan of super special white girls with no flaws telling the rest of the world how to live.”

“Oh.”

Something must’ve come through in her voice, because all of a sudden, Niner was super close and looking at Volleyball like she had a big old scrape on her face.

“What’d I say?”

“Nothing!” Volleyball shook her head, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Seems like a big deal. You’re upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, if that’s fine, we’ve got problems. Talk to me, kid.”

Volleyball crossed her arms and pouted at the other woman.

“Don’t call me that. Smosna, Jessica, Volleyball, or any variation of the three. Don’t call me kid. I’m 19.”

“I’m a lot older than that, and anyone who’s not clearly twenty years older than me is a kid. You gonna tell me why me not liking Wonder Woman’s got you pissed?”

“I’m not pissed. Oh, look, a distraction!”

A crashing sound came from where the others had made themselves at home and Palomo’s voice rang out.

“I’m ok!”

Volleyball stomped her foot.

“Palomo, you are a terrible distraction! You’re supposed to scream like you’re dying and beg me for help! We’ve practiced this!”

Charles was sprawled across the carpet, his limbs flung out around him and knocking against a few people. Katie was already on the ground with her hands on his head and cooing at him, so it couldn’t have been too bad.

If he was hurt, she’d be screaming.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m so clumsy that you thought we practiced an escape plan!”

Garza shook her head. Volleyball hadn’t even seen her sit down.

“I swear you could trip over your own shadow.”

“My shadow is a tricky little bastard, it likes to see me drop to its level, but this time it wasn’t my fault! I tripped over Chari’s shoes!”

“Shoes? Oh, you mean my foot prisons?”

Antoine was on his feet in seconds. He snatched up Chari’s shoes and flung them against the far wall like he was Captain Grif defending Captain Simmons and they were made of snakes.

Chari shrank back in her seat as Antoine leaned in and snarled into her face.

“Stop. Leaving. Tripping. Hazards. When. We. Have. People. Who. Can’t. Walk. Safely.”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

“Um…”

Volleyball clapped a hand over her mouth and tried not to laugh. The Freelancers were all staring at Antoine with confused looks on their faces. North held up a hand in the air, like he wanted to ask a question, but wasn’t sure how well it would go over.

“Is…is that a Hufflepuff basketball uniform?”

And yes, yes he was. The man was decked out in a racerback tank top in black and yellow stripes with matching basketball style shorts. Both the top and the shorts had the Hufflepuff house crest embroidered on them, and even his socks were full of house pride. He’d managed to keep it hidden by hiding underneath a blanket, but there was no hiding it anymore.

He’d exposed himself as a nerd for **all** to see!

Demir grinned and nudged Antoine.

“It looks good though, doesn’t it?”

Taita crowed from her seat where Agent Maine had decided to sit on the floor next to her. She’d grabbed onto the rim of his hoodie and held it in place so the man didn’t have a choice but to recline against the plush chair. Not that he seemed to mind, he looked super relaxed, if his expression was to be trusted.

It must be nice to feel safe.

“Isn’t it adorable?” Volleyball clapped and grinned, “He’s such a cute widdle Pufflehuff.”

Bitters held up a finger.

“First off, fuck you, it’s Hufflepuff. Second, Matthews picked these out. Third? I am a fucking adorable. Look at my goddamned face and tell me I’m not.”

Volleyball clapped her hands to the side of her face.

“I can’t! You just have the most adorable face.”

“Still kind of hung on this. You’re wearing Harry Potter merch. You’re a Hufflepuff?”

Bitters raised an eyebrow at North.

“Duh.”

“I would never have guessed.”

Antoine ticked off his fingers.

“Hard work, dedication, patience, loyalty, and fair play.”

He pointed at himself.

“Hufflepuff.”

Florida grinned.

“It _is_ the best house.”

Antoine turned around and pointed at the man, who’d snagged a loveseat for himself and his husband. The two were cuddled together with much more relaxed, less for show, smiles on their faces.

“Yes, it is.”

North shook his head.

“I can’t believe that Harry Potter is a thing even this far out.”

“There’s three things that you’re always gonna find on any English reading colony. Winnie the Pooh, Harry Potter, and The Lord of the Rings.”

“Really? I’d expect the bible or Fifty Shades of Grey or something in there.”

Habisch looked a little bit frustrated.

“The bible and fifty shades of what?”

“I’ve read about that one, it’s an American thing, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s an American thing? Aren’t you…from America?”

The Chorus soldiers all shared a puzzled look.

Taita let go of Mick to readjust her blanket.

“Nooooooo? We have a lot of English speakers, but we’re not American. We’ve got global representation, and some of us are moon colony.”

“Wait, moon colony?”

In the chaos Niner had slipped into her new outfit, hella fast that woman was, and wheeled herself over to the conglomeration of tired and achey.  

Taita grinned and pointed at herself.

“Yeah, so when they were grabbing people to fluff out the numbers, they were picking scientists, yeah, but they also grabbed people from around the world and off of different settlements that weren’t exactly thriving so they’d have a chance at opportunities elsewhere, really poverty heavy areas to work on the actual colonization and construction of the planet. My branch was one of them.”

They were getting crazy off topic, so Volleyball decided to fulfill the second part of her genius plan from the truck! She skipped over to Taita’s loveseat and slipped over the arm to sit on the other woman’s lap. Taita grunted but wrapped her arms around Volleyball’s waist.

“What’d I do to earn a gorgeous girl in my lap?”

Volleyball grinned.

“Nothing, just thought you’d appreciate this mental image! Danvers, Dom, uniform, handcuffs! You’re welcome!”

Volleyball planted a quick kiss against her cheek and laughed. Taita blinked once, slowly, then a few times rapidly. She growled and shoved Volleyball right off the chair and into Agent Maine’s lap.

“WHAT the hell, bitch?! Why would you do that to me?!”

“Girl, if I have to process that image, so do you! You’re the one with the mondo crush!”

“Yeah, I’m the one with the mondo crush, which means I’m supposed to be repressing the shit out of those thoughts, not making them worse!”

“Repression is bad for you!”

She laughed and climbed off of the poor, confused man she’d landed on.

“You are a terrible friend!”

“But an excellent wingman! Come on, Tai, I could get you a date with that woman in a week, just say the word!”

“NO!”

“Then I’m making a move! That woman has hands you can only dream about, and I want them!”

Volleyball laughed and crawled across the floor as quickly as she could to avoid the swipe she knew was coming.

“RRAUGH! I HATE YOU!”

Bitters gripped his head again.

“Jesus.”

Taita snarled and barely stopped herself from falling out of the chair.

“Fuck! Sorry, Antoine.”

“It’s ok, just…head hurts. Shouldn’t have gotten so worked up.”

Cissy pulled him to the floor, insistent and determined, shoved a rubix cube into his hands and threw his blanket back around his shoulders.

“You need to sit. Your head hurts.”

He smiled and tugged the hem of her skirt.

“You gonna sit down, or are you going to just run around and take care of people?”

She shook her shoulders a little.

“I have to stop being crazy. I’m 16. I’m a grown-up.”

He flicked the ear of one of her bunny slippers, and Cissy jumped like a cat near water.

“Hey!”

“If being grown up was all it took not to be crazy, we’d all be a hell of a lot different. Who was it that decided to hand upside down from the rafters during dodge ball? It wasn’t any of the kids, I’ll tell you that much.”

Volleyball snorted.

“Dude, dodge ball’s not my sport. I’d much rather scare the fuck out of people from the ceiling than play.”

“And then you got hit in the face and fell.”

Florida stopped making out with his husband.

“Oh my god.”

His eyes shot over her with laser focus.

Oh, shit.

“Relax!”

She did _not_ want that kind of attention from him. She didn’t have the fortitude.

“I lived!”

He was off Wyoming and inspecting her with wide eyes before she could blink.

“I can see that, Pet. Do you have any longstanding pain? That kind of fall could have one you serious harm.”

Wyoming sighed, the man’s mustache fluttered in disappointment.

“This is going to be a long night, I can tell already.”

Volleyball giggled nervously and danced away from Florida’s increasingly concerned inspection to hide behind Demir and Quetzalli.

“Well, if they’d hurry up and give us technology, I wouldn’t be acting this way! Boredom is SO bad for me!”

Antoine groaned and pressed his hands to his head.

“Breathe, you know they’ll be sending someone soon. God, you’d think you couldn’t survive without your eyes glued to a screen.”

“I am a product of my generation, Antoine! Stop judging me!”

 


	2. Shiny Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butch watches the children of Chorus, and is befuddled more often than not.

Butch had to admit, for all that the planet didn’t seem to offer in terms of amenities, housing, healthcare, shopping, or entertainment, it had managed to create a rather impressive group of young people. They’d spread themselves around the common space rather quickly and claimed spots in a way that Butch had only started to understand based on a series of power structures and cliques that were interesting to see fully developed. Despite the Chorus soldiers being _very_ opinionated about their little war, they seemed exceptionally willing to interact with soldiers from the other side, provided no one talked politics.

Within minutes of redressing, the children had turned the souring moods of the majority of the Freelancers on its head with laughter, jokes, games, and what would be considered an excessive amount of physical contact between strangers on any other planet. The soldiers all seemed to take the lack of armor as an excuse to hug, lean against, link arms, drape assorted limbs, and climb into each other’s laps. Even York, far from being the crowd favorite, found himself with an armful of Quetzalli as she fought to pull a second pair of socks over the pair she was already wearing for ‘excessive insulation’.

Butch had not grown up in an active warzone, per se, and could only imagine what life was like for these teens and young adults that they felt such an urge for constant contact. Being in body armor all day every day probably left them a bit touch starved.

Even Niner, who Butch expected to enforce a little distance, what with not usually being the touchy feely type unless she was drunk, ended up with their driver, Chari, standing behind Niner and brushing her hair out for no real reason other than the fact that Chari had a hairbrush and Niner had hair that could be brushed. She seemed to be enjoying it, too. Chari ran her fingers delicately through Niner’s locks, gently scratch at her scalp, and tutted softly about Niner’s exceptional dye job.

He agreed, it was a good look on her.

Antoine, Butch’s bitter little orange, dragged an oversized plush monstrosity of a chair up to the glass window just next to the quarantine’s entrance, crossed his arms, and parked himself there with a frown that very nearly shattered glass. The guards shuffled nervously as he glared at them but didn’t try to get him to move back.

It was a power play if Butch had ever seen one, though for what, he wasn’t sure yet.

Still, the young man was a surprisingly easy nut to crack, something Butch would take special care to correct in the future, but for now it was a benefit that it wouldn’t take more than a poke or so to get the young man to spill the whole thing. It was fun, adapting his training to a completely different audience than he was used to, what with the Chorus soldiers being young and fairly isolated from the galactic politics and media Butch built so much of his ‘friendly neighbor’ persona on.

Butch unwound himself from Reggie, smoothed his husband’s ruffled mustache a bit, and leaned against the back of Antoine’s chair.

“Hello, Cupcake. What’s got you all kerfluffled?”

Bitters snorted but didn’t take his eyes off the glass.

“Leave me alone, Flower Power, I have a headache.”

Oh…

Well…

That was…

BUTCH HAD A NICKNAME!!!

WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?!?!

He had a nickname he didn’t have to give himself!

Gosh, it was just going to be the best day! He could tell!

“Concussions are not fun, I’ll agree with that! Why are you glaring at those poor guards like they pissed in your ice cream?”

Bitters rubbed his nose absently and crossed his arms with enough force to look like a small child rather than a grown adult. The poor boy was really too adorable for his own good what with all that perfectly ruffleable _hair_ and that squishably _adorable_ face he had!

Was this what Butch’s mother warned him about when she’d talked about her _maternal feelings_ and how logic went out the window when one had children? If so, it was kind of impressive that those instincts managed to surface, what with years and years of emotional repression and redirection. Butch had killed a **lot** of people since he first joined the military forever and a day ago, including people he’d had time to build rapport with. He’d never felt the sheer _need_ to protect anyone this way before...except perhaps his husband, but that was a given when you married someone for love rather than insurance or inheritance.

He’d never expected to feel much of anything for anyone without a great deal of work, it had taken him well over a year to learn to like all of the members of Alpha squad enough to not want to murder them on an hourly basis, and yet here he was feeling concerned about child soldiers who flailed and whined and had little slap fights on the couch because Smosna had apparently gotten too close to Habisch while the Habisch wasn’t paying attention, and the girls seemed to hate each other for reasons Butch didn’t entirely understand.

Butch was…very interested in their health and wellbeing. Most of them looked like they could stand a little more fat and leafy greens in their diets. Folami had certainly been slender in her armor, but she looked like a severely malnourished, five foot one, Japanese Twiggy now that she was out of armor. Oh, she hid herself well under blankets and baggy clothes, but Butch could see her collarbone and her wrists, and she was twice as gaunt as he’d thought she’d be. The only thing that kept her from looking completely skeletal was the last vestiges of baby fat still clinging desperately to her cheeks.

She had far more scars than he’d expected.

They all did.

“I **need** to check in on Matthews, and I can’t do that until we have contact with the outside. Eventually we’re going to get these assholes to DO THEIR JOBS and get us _CONTACT_ with the outside! **CONTACT, YOU MISERABLE BASTARDS!** ”

Butch reached out and placed a hand lightly on the young man’s shoulder, and felt sheer rage radiate off of him.

When Bitters shoved him off, not an unexpected move, but certainly not one Butch was happy about, he grabbed the back of Bitters’ chair and dragged it away from the glass with a grin and a chipper whistle on his lips.

Bitters hauled his feet into the chair and gripped onto the armrests for dear life as he was dragged back to the circle of friends. The kids all snickered at him.

“UWAH! What are you _doing_?!”

“You don’t get to sit there and glare at the poor door people for doing their jobs, Honey Bunch! I’m sure your Matthews is fine. He was here, not on the mission, and there haven’t been any attacks on the base or you’d have heard about it.”

Bitters leapt out of the chair, but Butch expected him to try. He grabbed the plucky young thing by the back of his tank top and yanked him right back into his seat. Bitters was going to have to learn quickly that there were other people in charge now, and he was _not_ going to get away with temper tantrums.

Lieutenant or no, Butch was the boss.

Bitters shrank back into the chair. He must have caught on that Butch was drawing a line, because he didn’t protest the indignity of being ordered around.

Good boy.

The sooner he learned, the sooner Butch could teach him the things that were actually valuable for survival. Foraging, armor maintenance, effective capture and torture methods.

All the fun stuff!

Bitters looked down at his lap picked delicately at his _adorable_ Harry Potter themed tank top.

“He’s…really good at getting himself into trouble. It’s a thing. If I’m not there, he could get hurt.”

Poor boy was really in love, wasn’t he?

“He could get hurt with you there, too. It _is_ a warzone, after all.”

“Don’t _say_ things like that! He doesn’t need the jinx!”

Garza hopped up from her seat.

“I’ve got this, B!”

She put the tips of her thumbs and forefingers together in a triangle and held her hands out to Bitters. He ‘sliced’ through the seam with his hand and made the sign of the cross over himself. He prayed for a moment, then glared at Butch.

“Don’t say shit like that. I am going to get him to thirty if it fucking kills me!”

“You’re Catholic?”

Bitters blinked.

“My personal faith is none of your business.”

“Huh.”

“Look, just leave it be, and don’t talk about Matthews unless you’re gonna tell me you’ve discovered the cure for Lymshins Disease.”

“I…can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.”

Bitters turned himself away from Butch and watched the other kiddos poke around at the things they’d been left. Yacavone had gone foraging through the piles of assorted things left in the room for them and apparently discovered an entire box full of jewelry. She had spent a good twenty minutes trading shiny bits of metal with Habisch and Demir. They’d decked themselves out with bits and bobs, Yacavone had wrapped necklaces around her wrists and ankles, put in no less than three different sets of earrings, and covered her fingers in rings, while Demir had gone for a series of bracelets up to his elbows and connected several long chains together to make himself a rather fetching belly chain. Habisch was the most sedate, having added a necklace, two rings, and a circlet on her head over her hijab.

“Antoine,” Demir hopped up, “take these.”

Demir handed Bitters two rings, one with a black stone embedded into it, and one with a purple stone.

“Black tourmaline and amethyst. Protection.”

“Got any sapphires in there?”

“Maybe, I’ll keep looking.”

Yacavone waved a pendant on a shiny gold chain.

“I’ve got one with a pretty star in it!”

“That’ll work.”

She pressed the pendant against her forehead and dropped it around Bitters neck.

“There! All protected!”

Folami reached her hand into the cushions underneath herself and started to root around.

“No incense, unfortunately, what with Garza’s lungs, but we might have a pack of salt tucked in here somewhere.”

Butch watched as Bitters truly and genuinely smiled.

The boy had friends.

It was…unexpected, honestly, based on what he’d seen. He thought Bitters had been faking the emotions for the benefit of the crowd earlier. No one with the potential Butch saw in Antoine cared that much about anyone, and certainly not for this many people. There wasn’t room for that kind of emotional connection when anyone at any point in time could be your next target. When there were traitors around every corner, you could never truly trust.

Then again, maybe for him, there _weren’t_ traitors and spies trying to ruin everything. Maybe they really were friends. Perhaps Butch had been projecting a little bit.

He _had_ spent quite a bit of time in a military program designed to turn everyone against each other for reasons that didn’t make any kind of logical sense.

And it was…nice, actually, to see the young man surrounded by people who all seemed to care not just about him, but about his partner. Even the Federal soldiers, who couldn’t have known either Bitters or Matthews well, started to list off different remedies for bad luck and poor health.

It warmed his chest a little to see it.

Dear Smosna swaggered over to the window and leaned toward the glass with a flirtatious smile.

“Would someone please get us a set of functional datapads so we can end his misery? I get it, you’re both Federal, so you don’t know what it’s like, but that boy, he’s gonna be climbing the walls soon, and I for one don’t want to have to risk my life by sitting on him to keep him still. His boyfriend may look harmless, but he’s actually the type to bathe in the blood of his enemies to steal their youth and vitality, and Bitters ain’t too far behind him. At the very least, we should be expecting a supply drop soon, so, maybe check in and see how far out that is?”

One of the Federal soldiers nodded, but it was slow and distracted, and Butch was well aware that they were staring at her chest. Based on how she raised on her tiptoes and pushed herself forward, she was well aware of the picture she’d projected.

Bitters groaned

“Jess, please don’t go tits out on my account.”

“Hush, Antoine, I’m working here. Go play with Katie Kate and her magic fingers.”

Jensen waved him over.

“Come here, Antoine. Give ush your shkull.”

Bitters actually looked at Butch for confirmation before he tried to stand.

He nodded, and Bitters grumbled the whole way, but he obediently stood and put his head in Jensen’s lap. In seconds, Palomo crawled on top of him like a tiny puppy in need of attention and flopped on Bitters’ chest. The whole lot of these soldiers were nothing more than fluffy little animals snuggling for warmth, and if that wasn’t simultaneously the most adorable and terrifying thing Butch had ever seen, he didn’t know what was.

They were all foul mouthed little bunnies, kittens swiping with tiny claws, puppies tripping over their own two feet, baby birds waiting for someone to push them out of the nest. They were small and helpless, even if they could fire weapons and maneuver a battlefield.

He needed a better game plan if he intended to keep them _all_ alive.

The outside soldiers started to make calls over their radios and Smosna spun herself around with a giddy grin.

“The girls strike again!”

“Dearie?”

Smosna turned to Butch with an easy smile.

“Was that…really a necessary move?”

“Hmm? You mean my boobs for goods? Yeah, that was a trade I’m willing to make, well within my comfort zone.”

She reached out to pat his shoulder but hesitated and pulled her hand back. The happy go lucky smile tightened a little bit, like she was afraid it would fall off. The poor dear had absolutely no poker face.

Butch carefully took her hover hand in his own and grazed his lips across her knuckles in a quick, dry press. She blinked slowly for a moment before he let her hand go.

“I just…worry, dear.”

“It’s fine.”

“If you need-“

“Seriously, it’s all good. They’re gonna look, whether I’m using my well-trained chest muscles to make the girls bounce like a belly dancer’s or not. They’re gonna stare. This way we get something out of it.”

Which was a rather bleak perspective for a nineteen-year-old girl to take, especially when she came from a society that seemed to shun the gender norms the Freelancers were all familiar with. Then again, she was one of the few in the caravan to Proteger who understood that Wyoming’s comment about their Captain Tucker caring for his child ‘in spite of the nature of its conception’ was a direct reference to sexual assault. He really hoped it was an excess of Earth related media and not any real world experience that gave her the knowledge she had.

He turned to look at Reggie, who’s stopped trying to straighten out his mustache, and furrowed his brows in concern.

Butch’s face must have been acting up.

“Hey,” Smosna put her hand on his shoulder and gave a very gentle squeeze, “I appreciate the concern, but I’m ok. We’re good. No heavy stuff in this room, alright? This is a resting place, not a bad feelings place. You should…go over there and absorb some happy, ok?”

She tugged his arm a little.

“Come on! John and I can teach you Chorus rules for strip poker!”

“Nope!”

Andersmith grinned and held up a deck of cards.

“Winner gets to add something to their outfit. Most fashionable at the end of ten rounds wins.”

North shook his head.

“So, it’s anti-strip poker?”

Smosna and Andersmith shared a look.

“Um…” she cocked her head awkwardly to the side and ended up tipping over, just a bit.

“I…suppose that’s accurate.” Andersmith muttered, “The thought never occurred to me.”

Demir squeaked and stuck a barrette covered in tiny red jewels into his hair.

Quetzalli grinned and bumped Demir’s shoulder.

“You’re like a magpie.”

He snorted.

“Magpies are afraid of shiny objects, not attracted to them.”

She frowned and bumped his shoulder harder.

“Damn. Ok, well, you’re like a thing that likes shiny things.”

“Yes, as a human, I am a thing that likes shiny things.”

She grumbled and shoved his over.

“Hey, don’t be mean. Look,” He held up a ring, “here’s a shiny. Take the shiny. Put it on your body.”

Quetzalli put the ring on and examined it from a few different angles.

“Do you like it?”

“I like it.”

“Now it is your shiny.”

“Shhhhhiiiiiinnnyyyyy.”

Demir, Folami, and Palomo grinned and slowly chanted the word over and over. One by one, the other Chorus soldiers joined in with slow, rhythmic repetitions of ‘shiny, shiny, shhhhhiiiiiinnnyyyyy’ until they all burst into giggles as one.

York caught Niner’s eye.

“I am afraid of this ritual.”

Niner laughed.

“I don’t suppose that shiny thing is a tradition, is it? Because there are _so_ many people I could weird out that way.”

Yacavone snatched a silver bracelet covered in brightly colored beads from the box and pranced over to Niner with the piece clutched in her fist.

“You need pretties, Miss Niner.”

“Niner’s not big on girly stuff, Kiddo.”

Oh, York, Florida shook his head at the other man, you and your outdated ideas of gender roles. These people are going to eat you alive.

Actually, judging by Yacavone’s confusing but effective threat to the original door guard about eating him because he was a bitch noodle, she wasn’t above some cannibalism under the right circumstances.

Yacavone frowned hard at York.

“What’s girly about decorations? In most of Earth’s animal species, isn’t it the males that put on dressings and displays to attract attention?”

Niner patted Yacavone’s hand.

“Don’t worry about him, sugar. Lemme see that bracelet.”

Niner wrapped it around her wrist. She rotated it this way and that and rolled herself a little in the chair. She frowned as the metal chain clinked against the wheelchair. Too loose, it would only catch on things and cause problems later on.

It was a shame. The bracelet looked good on her.

“It’s pretty, but it’s too loose. Got anything that’s tight enough to not catch?”

Yacavone took the bracelet back, clearly disappointed, but then her whole _precious_ face lit up. She pulled a pair of gold wrist cuffs from the deep pockets of her dress. Butch caught Reggie’s jealous stare as her pockets were deep enough for her hands to go halfway up to her elbows.

None of his dresses did that.

Maybe Butch could sew pockets into Reggie’s less expensive dresses before he started wearing them again. Sewing wasn’t Butch’s strongest point, but if he never tried he’d never get any good at it!

“I was saving these for Paolo, but I think they’ll look even _better_ on you! You’ve got the muscles to make them look good! Here’s a pretty! Take the pretty! Put it on your body!”

Niner laughed and put them on.

“Do you like them?”

“Yeah, I like them.”

“Now they are your pretties! And you look like Wonder Woman!”

Niner snorted.

“Dude,” Folami rolled her head to look at Niner, “just accept that people are associating you with a badass amazon and take the compliment.”

“Alright, alright, clearly there’s some Wondie love on this planet, I accept it, even if I don’t understand it.”

Habisch swept Yacavone into her arms and spun her around. She squeaked and flailed.

“There are worse people to be associated with than The Spirit of Truth, Miss Niner!”

“Just Niner, not agent, not miss, it’s just Niner.”

Yacavone motioned to be put down and staggered a little. She had a grin on her face.

“But you’re an old. It’s disrespectful to just call you by your nickname.”

“I’m an old?”

Andersmith smiled and shook his head.

“An older person. Cissy, don’t worry about it. If she says it’s fine for you to call her Niner, you aren’t being rude.”

“Is this a sunshine rule?”

A…sunshine rule.

Folami caught Butch’s eye and shook her head.

Not a question for now, he supposed.

“I think your cave was just very strict. They did you and Paolo a disservice by not letting you take proper lessons and socialize like normal people. If someone asks you not to call them something, it’s better to call them what they want.”

She hummed and swished her skirt back and forth.

“Well, I can’t call you just Niner, because if I did that, then I’d be just like everyone else! You need a special nickname! But later, I’ve got work to do.”

Cissy spun herself in a circle and wandered back over to the box of baubles and started to pull things out and lay them in groupings that Butch didn’t really understand. Rings were piled with necklaces, gold and silver mixed, and the gemstones didn’t seem to follow a color palette that made sense. They weren’t based on type, color, or size as far as he could tell, but the girl was _very_ determined about the whole process!

North slowly shuffled over and leaned down to get a better look at her project. The whole room tensed.

Clearly none of them had forgiven him for trying to punch poor Palomo, twice.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm? Feeling the energy.”

Cissy picked up a necklace, then a ring, then a bracelet.

“Here, this one is soothing, and this one is for healing, and this one is good for twins to wear, see?”

He smiled and accepted the jewelry.

“Not really.”

She smiled and waved a hand at him.

“That’s ok, I didn’t get to really learn this stuff until Paolo and I were adopted by the Federal Army, I’ll teach you when we get our datapads. I just know that stones resonate with different frequencies and emit different types of energy, metals and woods too, so when you fit a stone to the metal, you want it to work good together for a purpose. There’s lots of healing stuff in here, and some shinys for happiness, and lots for protection.”

“Huh.”

Cissy looked up from the box.

“Put this one on, too. It’s for South. She needs all the healing she can get.”

North slipped the necklace around his neck and smiled.

“Thank you, Yacavone.”

“Pfft! We’re out of uniform. Call me Cissy! Everyone does. You wear the necklace until you can give it to her, and it’ll have all your protective energy in it.”

“Sounds kinda…metaphysical.”

Habisch smiled and wrapped her arms around Cissy.

“Some of it is, I’m sure. Chorus is built on a mishmash of a hundred different traditions. Still, it’s the thought that counts.”

There was a tap at the window. A soldier in tan and yellow was just outside the door. He waved through the glass and turned on the speaker.

**_“Hey, everyone!”_ **

“Oh, look who it is! Matthews!”

Smosna pumped the air with her fist.

“The girls get the job done!”

Antoine’s head shot up.

“Kyle?”

“Oh, my goodnesh! Thank goodnesh youre here, he ish sho cranky!”

“Oh my god, Jensen.”

“You’re cranky! You’re like a five year old, or Captain Grif when he doeshn’t get hish third nap.”

Bitters was up and against the glass in seconds, hands and forehead pressing against the barrier that separated them. Matthews put his hands against the glass as well, and Bitters let out a relieved sigh.

**_“I’ve got stuff for you, as soon as they open the door.”_ **

Bitters snarled.

“You can’t come in here!”

**_“I’m not stupid, Antoine, you’re in quarantine! If I break it, there’s all kinds of problems, and I would get such a scolding! Sit down, I have to talk to the room for a minute.”_ **

Bitters dropped to the floor and sat.

The young man definitely didn’t sound soft and fluffy and adorable, the way Butch expected based on the sheer number of reiterations. He was a little higher pitched and squeaky, and maybe he tended toward the more nervous end of the spectrum, but certainly not at that moment.

**_“I know you were all having a fun time out there, being silly, almost dying, that kind of stuff. I need an honest answer from you, who here was shoving their jumblies into Antoine’s face?”_ **

Smosna froze, mid air pump, and turned to the window with wide eyes.

“No one, we just kept threatening to.”

**_“That’s not what the rumor mill says, Volleyball.”_ **

Smosna rocked nervously on her heels for a moment.

“It’s true, cutie-muffin. We were teasing him something awful, but he’s just so adorable when he’s flustered! He freezes under flirtation, whereas _I_ flourish!”

The tension in Matthews’ shoulders immediately disappeared and turned into a happy go lucky bounce that mimicked Smosna’s style.

**_“Oh! Well, if it was you, that’s ok.”_ **

Bitters choked.

“Are you fucking serious?”

**_“Yeah. I’m not worried about Jess, she’s not gonna cross a line and make you too uncomfortable!”_ **

“This is about him not being uncomfortable?”

**_“Well, yeah? Have you met Antoine? He’s an awkward turtle!”_ **

Antoine, clearly offended if the pout on his face was any kind of indicator, stood up and crossed his arms over his chest again.

“I’m the awkward one?!”

Matthews giggled into his hand.

**_“Antoine?”_ **

Bitters waited a beat.

“Yeah?”

**_“Penis.”_ **

Bitters’ face flushed dark and he sputtered indignantly.

**_“See? Imagine if someone who didn’t respect your boundaries was all up in your business! Volleyball, feel free to shove away!”_ **

“Oh my god, Kyle! I don’t want Jess’s bits in my face!”

**_“You’re loss! She’s the only person on the planet I would allow that freedom! Anyone else would end up on my bad side!”_ **

Smosna’s leg flew into the air in what Butch could only describe as a cheerleader’s high kick and she bounced in a circle.

These children were…so strange.

“Aww! I love you, too, bugaboo!”

Quetzalli jumped up and waved an arm at the window.

“Matthews, can you get us some tools and supplies?”

**_“Sure, anything specific?”_ **

“My tech kit, the one labeled ‘Danielle Chu, if you touch this, I will cut you’. It’s aqua.”

“And anything you can get from the stepping stone project? It’d help, since we’re a little cut off.”

**_“I’ll get you the plans, too.”_ **

Matthews laughed from the other side of the glass and held up a tablet.

_“Ok, start throwing me things you need! Now is the time!”_

Smosna jumped and waved a hand.

“Oh, god yes, my vi-“

“JESSICA!”

“Little earsh!”

“olent movies! Violent movies! That’s totally what I was going for and not anything inappropriate for children! Totally kid appropriate violent movies! God, it is really frustrating when the majority of my humor is crude! Dear god, how do I stop myself from saying words?!”

Niner gave Smosna her ‘eyebrow raised in complete disbelief expression.

“All of that sex stuff was you joking?”

“Well, not all of it, but the part where I’m up to 11? Yeah, pretty much. The Reds and Blues think it’s funny so I started amping it up! I kind of enjoy it, but sometimes I feel like it’s a little much, but before know it I can’t stop myself and I’m just way overboard and everybody is looking at me like I need remedial lessons on peopleing.”

York snorted.

“Aww, even that stuff with Delta was fake? Sorry, D, no Supreme Overlord of Smartness smooches for you.”

“Oh no, that part wasn’t fake!”

Smosna clutched her hand to her chest, just over her heart, and tugged a little at her top. Her voice became a little breathless and she tossed her head just a little in what Butch clearly recognized from every cheesy, over the top, dramatic romantic comedy passion speech ever written.

“What Delta and I had in that brief 19 second span of time, that was **completely** real.”

York held up a hand and blinked slowly. He frowned and shook his head.

“D, no.”

He shook his head again.

“D, come on.”

He sighed, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. What had Delta asked him to do?

York had never turned down a challenge from Delta. The two of them were very alike in their humor, and York enjoyed playing it up for the green glowing hologram of friendship on his shoulder.

“26 seconds, Volleyball.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your count was off. Delta says it was 26 seconds.”

She squealed and jumped around in a circle, clapping her hands all the while.

“He remembered! Quick, let’s get married! I think there’s a broom around here somewhere!”

She spun a little too far and too wildly and knocked herself into Demir. The poor boy managed to keep standing but Smosna ended up on the floor.

“Oof!”

He held out a hand to help her to her feet, but Smosna, always one to be contrary, it seemed, hauled him to the floor instead.

**_“Guys, I get it, and this is an immensely interesting conversation, but I need requests or you’re gonna be sleeping here with standard kits, and this group gets bored hella fast.”_ **

Folami waved a hand.

“Datapad me, please? Anything will do, as long as I can talk to the outside.”

“You just wanna flirt with Danvers!”

“Shut _up_ , Smos!”

Matthews just laughed and waved his in the air.

**_“Let me send myself the list and you can have this one until I get yours. I know you guys all have people you need to check in with._ **

“Matthews, if you weren’t a guy and dating that orange asshole, I’d kiss you.”

Bitters glared.

“Folami, If your lips **ever** end up **anywhere** on my boyfriend, other than his forehead, I will make you _suffer_.”

Maine’s whole body tensed up and Butch was afraid he’d have to defend his child from Maine, who’d clearly decided that Folami was now his precious baby girl and needed to be protected from all insults. Folami just threaded her fingers into Maine’s hoodie and held onto it.

“I’m not afraid of you, Antoine. I know all your secrets. Yes, even that one. Hey, Mick, how do you like your bedding? You strike me as a pillow monster.”

Maine cocked his head to the side and shrugged.

“You don’t want to be surrounded by pillows of varying size and softness? I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like a pillow fort and fuzzy blankets. Matthews, please make sure we get a warehouse worth of bedding in here, between the clumsiness, the lack of privacy, and the sheer awesomeness that is a multi-story pillow fort, I can tell you we don’t have enough stuff.”

Yacavone and Palomo wrapped an arm around each of North’s effectively making a chain out of the three of them.

“North, do you and Theta prefer books or movies?”

Bitters leaned backwards until he was staring directly at Butch.

“What’s the best way to keep you from murdering people, Flower Power?”

And on and on.

Within minutes, they’d gotten a fairly comprehensive list of things together and Butch was pleased to be the future owner of a jar of beads of varying styles and colors, a box of blue crayons, and a stack of 35-year-old magazines that were saved primarily for historical purposes, but really just took up space.

He hadn’t figured out what he would do with all of it yet, but it was well worth it to see the terrified faces of the Freelancers and the morbidly curious glances from the Chorus kids. He’d have to come up with something truly spectacular if he wanted to impress them.

Maybe he could invent a new religion.

**_“Hey, Volleyball, if you give him a lap dance, I want video of his face!”_ **

Poor Antoine gaped at Matthews in horror as his friends howled with laughter.

He really didn’t know what to do with embarrassment, did he? Poor dear. That would have to be another lesson, after proper stabbing technique, but Butch could squeeze it in before computer hacking.

“You…you’re not seriously doing this are you? You’re leaving me here after that comment?! Kyle, you are such a jerk.”

**_“But you wuuuuuuv me! I’ll be back soon!”_ **

Matthews blew Bitters a kiss, and Bitters returned it with a surprising level of enthusiasm.

Completely. Adorable.

Bitters watched Matthews walk away with a wistful smile on his face. He’d finally unwound from his tense and scared position and allowed himself to truly relax. It was like night and day.

“What are you thinking, Poppet?”

Bitters put his head in his hands and let out a long, smitten sigh.

Well, on him it was a smitten sigh, on anyone else it would have sounded bored and vaguely annoyed.

“Shakespeare. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

The whole of the Chorus kids groaned.

A few flailed.

Garza hid her face in her arms.

“Oh my god, Bitters.”

“What? It’s true.”

They _were_ very similar, Butch and Antoine. Hyper focused on very specific tasks, quick on his feet, obsessively in love, and prone to fits of destruction when things didn’t go right. It was an easy comparison, and the boy’s actions on the battlefield showed an unpolished, but very similar thought process.

Smosna rested an arm on Bitters’ head.

“Which one of you is getting greatness thrust upon them?”

“Neither of us at the moment, but I keep telling him I wouldn’t mind his greatness being thrust upon my face.”

Antoine was also surprisingly similar to Reggie. Mostly collected and sarcastic, terrible jokes involving genitals, and quite dashing when they weren’t making fools of themselves. Bitters’ aim wasn’t nearly where it needed to be to be in Reggie’s league, but it didn’t have to be. He was allowed to make his own life choices in regards to specialized skills, after all.

He really was the perfect child. Butch couldn’t wait to properly mold Antoine into the superior breed of soldier he was destined to be.

York looked at Bitters as if he’d never seen the boy before, or perhaps as if he’d just realized exactly what he’d stumbled into by agreeing to go on this little journey to find their dear Agent Washington.

“I think you’re…taking that quote out of context.”

Bitters returned York’s look with one of his own that clearly said he’d significantly overestimated the man’s intelligence before and never would again, which wasn’t entirely fair, because while York _wasn’t_ the brightest crayon on the block, he wasn’t as unintelligent as Bitters had pegged him.

“You do realize that’s one of the most famous dick jokes in history, right? That’s literally a dick joke. Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night’ Dick Joke. There is no context in which that is _not_ originally a dick joke, unless it’s being interpreted by people who don’t know anything about Shakespeare’s writing. No one tell him about the meaning behind ‘Much Ado about Nothing’, you’ll blow his mind.”

Smosna snorted.

“Babe, that’s the only part of his body I’m _willing_ to blow!”

It was…interesting, changing his evaluations so often. Butch was typically _very_ good at reading a person and knowing them fairly well within minutes, sure every now and again a few details slipped through the cracks, but not enough to make him so much as second guess himself. These children managed to well and truly surprise him at just about every turn!

Bitters, having finished his little emotional crisis now that he’d seen his boyfriend in good health, made his way back into the group with an air that said he was done with everything, but an enthusiasm that said he’d only just started to play.

Butch’d thought that the obsession with this ‘Matthews’ boy would be a distraction, but it seemed his worries were for nothing! Dear Matthews seemed to be the perfect blend in the opposite direction! He presented himself as sweet and gentle, was well liked, capable of creating schedules and plans that scared the hell out of people (if the rumors he’d heard while they were still out in the field were true), and…well, there was something to be said for someone who was completely unthreatened by the unbridled sex appeal of a 19-year-old bombshell like Jessica ‘Volleyball’ Smosna, who on a different planet, could have collapsed empires with her smile alone.

And it was _perfect_ that they’d found each other! Matthews being ill was a wonderful lure to get Antoine on their side, after all, who else had access to medical research, off planet medication, and _excellent_ bedside manner besides the Freelancers?

“York just don’t understand literature, I guess.”

Folami growled at Demir, who’d brought her the datapad Matthews left behind. She tapped at the screen and pulled her blanket from her lap and over her head, effectively cutting herself off from the rest of the room. Maine looked up at her, shoulders pulled together, face scrunched in…oh, poor man. He looked so very lost in that moment.

Butch almost felt a thread of pity for him.

“Ducky? What are you doing?”

She snarled, full of venom that Butch hadn’t heard in at least a few hours.

“Talking to Kimball! Leave me alone!”

Butch watched the Freelancers all tense, including poor Maine. Jensen, Smosna, Palomo, and Bitters all made wide eyed ‘cease and desist’ motions. York forced a quick smile onto his face.

“I don’t get why everyone on this planet is so mean to me about things. I am intelligent and charming.”

Smosna snorted and tossed a pillow at him.

“You’re neither of those things, Agent York, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you can take on the role you were always meant to play. Mediocre white guy.”

She snapped her hips from side to side a few times.

“Come _on_ , you guys, I am so bored!”

Habisch let out a slow, clearly irritated breath.

“You are a challenge, Smosna. Every day I am around you, you challenge me.”

Smosna grinned.

She rolled her hips and rotated her wrists in circles as she raised her arms above her head.

Oh!

She was dancing!

Wow, that took an _embarrassingly_ long time for Butch to connect the dots. He’d thought she was just…shaking body parts randomly, or something equally silly. It seemed like the kind of thing she’d do.

“Eat a dick! You’ll feel better!”

“Go to hell, Smosna!”

“Bitch, I’m Jewish, there is no hell!”

“You just don’t get it. This kind of behavior is the reason you’ll never end up in top tier education.”

Smosna crossed both her wrists over her head, turned her back on Habisch, raised both middle fingers, and shook her rear at the other woman.

Dear god, she was baiting the woman. Habisch hated her, and Smosna was only making it worse. They’d drawn the attention of the entire room, with the exception of Folami under her blanket, and it didn’t look to be stopping any time soon.

“You have something to say to me, Habisch?”

“Oh god.”

“Because I’m not afraid of you or your spoonfed Federal propaganda.”

Habisch stood up, spun Smosna around, and stuck her finger right in Smosna’s face.

“Smosna, you’re a koala. You’re cute, but stupid, and incapable of surviving outside of very particularly maintained circumstances.”

The playful smile fell off and was replaced with fury.

“Oh, that is it!”

Bitters moved into a ready position.

“Volleyball, don’t do it. She won’t hesitate to punch you in the boob!”

“My boobs are made of steel! Come at me, bitch! I dare you!”

Butch shook his head.

“Ok, ladies, time to go to separate corners.”

Habisch swung at Volleyball.

“FUCK YOU!”

“FUCK _YOU_!”

Bitters wrapped his arms around Smosna’s waist and hauled her backwards onto the floor.

Habisch found her wrists caught in Butch’s hands.

“None of that, now.”

“She **started** it!”

Butch shook his head.

“Well, we’re not going to finish it. You don’t need to play the game.”

“She _always_ gets away with acting like that!”

“GET OFF OF ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

Butch ushered Habisch to the opposite side of the group from Smosna and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Well, that won’t last much longer. We all have to get along if we want to make it out of here, let’s not kill each other, hmm?”

Habisch let out a long, slow breath again.

“I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I…will not be able to make it in here if we can’t find a way to keep her from stepping on my nerves.”

“You could play anti-strip poker with her!”

Habisch glared.

It was going to be a fun night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...really wanted this to be funny and nonsensical...I think I got the second half right at least. Do you know how hard it is not to make big plot reveals for the MAIN story in this? I cut SO MUCH from this chapter! SO MUCH! This was over 15,000 words! 15,000 words for the silly story told from Florida's perspective! I wish I knew where my ability to write short chapters went, because I am not trying to make this super long!

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally intended for this to be a oneshot, no more that 10,000 words...
> 
> That didn't end up happening. 
> 
> So now, I'm going to be uploading this in sections as they are finished! There's far more here than I expected, though this story is mostly just assorted silliness that didn't find its home in the main story!
> 
> The rest of this piece will be told from the perspectives of our remaining Freelancers! I hope to see you then!


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